The Russian film-makers have so finely celebrated their nation's valor in this war that one is inclined to anticipate ringing pictures from them on that theme. But "Zoya," the new Soviet picture, which came to the Stanley on Saturday, is not of a cinematic quality to compare with their previous films seen here. It purports to tell the story of an 18-year-old Moscow girl who is captured as a guerrilla fighter behind the Nazi lines and recollects in flashback all her girlhood while being tortured by the Nazi brutes. And it contains considerable footage assembled from old newsreels which represent high moments in Soviet history.

But the general treatment of the story is so extravagantly theatrical and the incidents are so tediously constructed that the film lacks imposing strength either as a credible document or as a drama for the average audience. A girl named Galina Vodianitskaya plays the heroine elaborately. Howard Fast wrote the English narration, which is faintly fustian.

At this late date it is as ineffectual to criticize a Wallace Beery picture as it is to rail against rain. Both are seasonal occurrences and Beery vehicles, like rain, seemingly have been descending on these parts for ages. Neither has changed perceptibly. For instance, the Globe's current tenant, "This Man's Navy," like its many predecessors, fits Mr. Beery's massive contours like a glove. And, while nominally a topical adventure, the film is largely devoted to Mr. Beery disporting himself as of yore. As a rough-hewn, golden-hearted chief petty officer in the Navy's blimp service, he is scarcely different from Beery the erstwhile marine, gob, etc. But, although it is overlong, short on humor and improbable, "This Man's Navy" is a pleasant yarn, which should fascinate the devotees of the Beery school of derring-do.

Already a cinema veteran of most of the branches of the armed forces, Metro, the producers, this time have installed our stalwart at Lakehurst and its covey of lighter-than-air ships. As usual, his tall tales involve him not only with his incredulous buddy, James Gleason, and other shipmates, but with a foster son he is forced to produce in order to substantiate one of his whoppers. The "father and son" team's subsequent aerial campaigns at Lakehurst, and against submarines and Japs smacks more of Hollywood grand strategy than fact. Although it is occasionally exciting—as in the sequence depicting a blimp's attack on a sub—those moments are rare. Tom Drake, as an ingratiating "son," and James Gleason, as Berry's irascible sidekick, contribute the most believable performances, with Jan Clayton and Selena Royle in the chief supporting roles. It should be noted that Mr. Beery's nickname in the film is "Old Gas Bag." He makes the most of it.